


I Live The Envelope

by orphan_account



Series: The Exiles [3]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Backstory, Gen, Gladiators, Play Fighting, Sparring
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-12
Updated: 2017-10-12
Packaged: 2019-01-16 12:59:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,081
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12343170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Zethrid was addicted to the adrenaline rush. The way the blood rushed in her ears when she strained her arms and legs. The struggle for dominance. Fighting to win, to lose, or to die. Even fighting for fun is worth it - it's just another way to challenge and strengthen the bonds she has with her new compatriots and friends. Written for nettaina for the Lunar Ladies exchange!





	I Live The Envelope

 

                It was funny, really – she was supposed to hate the remnants of what they’d chained her with, the instincts that still flared up in her muscles like old habits, but Zethrid was addicted to the adrenaline rush. The way the blood rushed in her ears when she strained her arms and legs. The struggle for dominance. Fighting to win, to lose, or to die.

“C’mon, Acxa! Kick her ass!” Ezor yelled from the sidelines, grinning ear to ear.

Okay, death wasn’t really in the cards this time around. But it was still a fight.

Acxa tucked a strand of hair behind her ear with a grin. Both her and Zethrid were stripped down to their jumpsuits, Acxa slim and toned under the black, Zethrid twice her size with muscles rippling under the fabric. “I’m taking my time,” she teased.

“I think you’re just _scared,_ ” Zethrid taunted back. She could already hear her heartbeat in her ears. It wasn’t the _same_ as being in the ring – not nearly as much at stake – but especially in these lulls between battles, it wasn’t bad.

                She could hear Narti’s quiet breaths behind her. She was watching the two of them from Kova’s witch-glow eyes, and even thought Narti didn’t _say_ anything, Zethrid knew she found the whole thing just as interesting. Besides, these kinds of fights aren’t nearly as interesting without an audience.

Acxa struck first, fist flashing out. She feinted a blow at Zethrid’s head, then ducked, pistoning out her leg at Zethrid’s kneecap. It hit but not quite hard enough; Zethrid staggered away, then lowered her stance, sheathed claws lashing out for Acxa as she scampered away.

“You’re too _fast,_ ” Zethrid complained lightheartedly.

                “You’re just getting slow – _oof!_ ”

With a grunt of effort, Zethrid lifted Acxa into the air by her neck, careful to keep her claws to the side and the pressure away from her friend’s windpipe. It’s a trick she learned in the ring – where her opponents were capitalists or slaves.

“C’mon, Acxa! Don’t fail me! I have _money_ riding on you!”

“Thank you for the encouragement, Ezor,” she griped, somewhat breathlessly – then a moment later, her legs jerked up, wrapping around Zethrid’s neck. She snapped her knees together, yanked Zethrid’s wrist away, and then both of them were toppling to the ground –

By the time Zethrid’s head stopped spinning, Acxa’s knee was firmly planted on her chest, hand at her throat in a sign of victory. “I win,” she teased, a smile flickering over her face.

Zethrid’s ears twitched, then she let her head fall back against the hard ground with a laugh. She couldn’t even be mad. “You do. I’ll get you next time.”

“Probably. I’m surprised I beat you. Is that the first time?”

“Second, I think. Still, I think I’m getting old. When’d you get so _good?_ ”

Acxa shrugged, mouth twitching. “Too much time fighting you.” She rolled off of Zethrid, sitting on the ground next to her and trying to catch her breath. “You’ll have to fight Ezor next.”

“Not on your _life,_ ” insisted Ezor as she walked into the center of their makeshift gladiator ring, no more than a patch of dirt cleared on the surface of the small planet. “I’m a twig. One wrong move and I’ll _snap._ ”

“You don’t give me enough credit,” Zethrid complained.

“Quite the contrary. I know how strong you are.” Ezor huffed, flicking her ponytail over her shoulder. “C’mon, you two. Are you going to lie around all day?” She laughed at Acxa’s outraged look, then offered a hand, pulling her to her feet.

Narti simply sat down by Zethrid’s side, Kova slinking from her shoulders to sit squarely on the bigger woman’s chest.

“And how am I supposed to get up like this?” Zethrid sighed. Narti just shrugged, the smile on her face glowing, and then she pulled out a cloth, running the damp fabric over the cuts and bruises on Zethrid’s arms and shoulders, washing away the sweat of battle. Pretend battle, perhaps, but battle nonetheless.

Zethrid didn’t realize she was lost in thought until Narti’s fingers brushed over the half-closed, healing hole in her ear. She doesn’t say anything (she never does) but the question hangs in the air anyway.

“Oh, that’s –“ She isn’t sure whether to be self-conscious or not. “That’s where my owners had me tagged. Back when I was first in the ring.”

Narti cocked her head with a mix of curiosity and sadness, but Zethrid shrugs it off with a laugh. “I bought my freedom. And I went back into the ring as my own.” She was still proud of that – she could remember the roar of the crowd when she walked back into the ring, the tags gone from her ears, the i I’m a warrior. Nothing can take that from me. And nothing could make me happier.”

The smile broadened over Narti’s face, and she inclined her head into a small nod. Her fingers toyed with the tuft of fur at the tip of Zethrid’s ear, and Zethrid could feel the flicker of emotion flowing through Narti’s fingers into her skin. It was happiness, but a gentle, soft happiness – a sense of relief. After some time, it crystallized into something that was almost words.

_I am glad you are here._

Zethrid blinked, then smiled, a faint blush colouring her cheeks. She lifted her hand to Narti’s. “I’m glad you’re here too.” She couldn’t help but wonder what Narti’s story was. She’d seen the scar on her throat, and the fierce loyalty she had for Lotor. The loyalty they all had for him – and that they were developing for each other.

Narti hesitated, and then let her hand hover over Zethrid’s shoulder, wordlessly asking permission. Zethrid nodded, and once Narti’s fingers brushed her skin, the memory exploded between them, rich with colour and sound and life.

“ _Zethrid! Zethrid! Zethrid!_ ”

The cheers echoed with the distance of time. She had her arms up in the air, the champions’ belt she’d ripped from the loser’s waist gripped in her fingers, blood from the cut in her forehead streaming down into her eyes and turning the world hues of rose and crimson.

She’d won.

She’d won.

And then – alongside her – in the memory that felt more like a dream – was Narti, looking over the crowd with borrowed eyes and a quiet gasp of wonder. Zethrid took her hand and held it up with hers.

In the ring, she’d always been alone… but not anymore.


End file.
